


May His Memory Be a Blessing

by ATwistOfLemonLyman



Series: The Gods Have Conspired [8]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Biphobia, Bisexual Male Character, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, For those of you unfamiliar with the series Felix is Josh’s first cousin once removed, Gay Male Character, HIV/AIDS, Homophobia, Josh - Joanie - and their mother only get a mention, Judaism, M/M, Original Character-centric, Vignette, minor original character death, part of a series but can be read on its own
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-05-31 11:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19424713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATwistOfLemonLyman/pseuds/ATwistOfLemonLyman
Summary: Felix gets an unexpected letter with distressing news.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I have a habit of publishing Gay™ content at the very end of Pride month. Unfortunately this year it's a lot sadder than FROM ONE FATHER TO ANOTHER which I published at the end of Pride month two years ago.
> 
> I'm publishing this initially as two chapters but it's meant to be one. I'll change the format after I publish the second part (I should have the second part published later today).

**Connecticut**

**Early 1990s**

* * *

Felix knew he’d have mail piling up since he’d forgotten to check his mailbox for the past three days. He was eager to get to Marguerite’s so he decided to grab his mail and sort through it at her place while she got ready to go out, knowing that if he didn’t grab it now he’d probably forget to pick up his mail well into the middle of next week. Besides the stack was sure to be made up of mostly junk mail that could be tossed, leaving him with only a few things to open and read.

He made the drive from Hartford to Westport in record time and let himself into Marguerite’s house. It was made evident that he wasn’t the only person that was eager for the weekend when he found himself being accosted by Marguerite the moment he stepped into the house. She had her fingers in his hair and was kissing him ardently without so much as a “hello”. It was a pleasant surprise but the shock of it caused him to drop the mail and keys he’d been holding. As soon as his hands were free (and he’d gathered his wits) he slid them across the silk of her floral kaftan as he pulled her closer to him.

“Not that I didn’t enjoy that but, what brought that on?” he asked as soon as she let him up for air.

Marguerite shrugged.

“Just in a good mood I guess,” she replied with a coy smile. “Why don’t you get yourself a drink while I get myself out of this thing and into something more appropriate for tonight.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you got yourself out of it and didn’t change into anything at all.”

“Randy old goat,” she teased.

Felix raised an eyebrow at her and smirked.

“Don’t say anything!” she exclaimed once she realized why he responded that way.

“I didn’t say a thing.”

“Your eyebrows always say plenty. Besides, it’s not as if I’m a cradle-robber,” she said, giving his chin a gentle tweak.

“No, but I’m certain we turned quite a few heads once. I was so thin when we first met, I probably looked like a teenager at first glance.”

“You are  _ still _ obscenely thin, darling.”

Now it was Felix’s turn to shrug. She was right, he was still on the thin side, but now in his 60s he looked more svelte than gangly. He'd looked malnourished in his teens and spent the next decade and a half looking lanky- that was when Marguerite had met him, in his lanky phase.

“Go, change,” he said, giving her cheek a quick peck. “I’ll clean this mess up in the meantime.”

“Alright, I won’t be long,” she said as she stepped away.

“Take your time, I still need to recover from that kiss.”

“Silly man,” Marguerite called out as she went up the stairs.

With all his mail laid out before him it was easy to pick out the junk mail, which he gathered up into a pile and then created a second smaller pile out of the remaining mail. He grabbed both piles, tossed the larger pile into a wastepaper basket in the nearby study then went into the living room and fixed himself a drink and began to make his way through the remaining letters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, I totally lied, this is going to be temporarily split into 3 or 4 parts instead of just 2 before I reformat it and make it all one chapter.  
> The story is virtually finished (just needs a bit of polishing) but life happened and I ended up having to do some chores so I didn’t get a chance to work on this til just now. Anyway, here’s part 2:

When Felix reached the penultimate letter he noticed that it was from an unfamiliar source, a “Max Newman” from New York. He slit the envelope open with ease and tugged the letter out, curious to find out what it contained and who this Max Newman was.

Nothing could have prepared him for the letter’s contents.

“ **_Mr. Strauss,_ **

**_Given your long acquaintance and close friendship with Hilly Moskowitz I felt that you should be informed of his passing._ ** ”

Felix had to put the letter down for a moment as he tried to recover from the punch in the gut meted out by that first sentence. He failed to get his breathing under control but he pushed forward anyway.

“ **_He died due to AIDs related complications_ ** .”

“Jesus, Jesus Christ,” Felix muttered, his chest constricting with every breath. For a brief moment he considered taking a drink but he was sure he’d choke.

“ **_The funeral will have already happened by the time you get this but if you’d like to come down to the city I can take you to where he’s been buried and perhaps you can take something of his to remember him by. He made me his executor and asked that I distribute the contents of a box of mementos among his friends and, as he mentioned you often and with great affection, I thought it would be best to let you be the first to take a look._ **

**_I can be contacted on weekdays (usually after 6pm) at the following number:_ **

**_###-###-####_ **

**_I look forward to hearing from you._ **

**_Sincerely,_ **

**_Max Newman_ ** ”

  
  


It wasn’t long after he finished the letter that he heard the clack of Marguerite’s heels coming down the stairs but he found that he couldn’t react.

Marguerite quickly realized something was wrong when she saw how pale Felix looked and the way his eyes seemed to be looking  _ through _ the letter he was holding in his hand. 

“Felix, what’s wrong? Are you sick?” Marguerite reached to touch his face to feel if he was warm. He did feel a little warm but not enough to cause concern unless there were other symptoms. 

The physical contact was enough to snap Felix out of his trance.

“Felix?”

“It’s- uh- Hilly, Hillel Moskowitz-” he managed to squeeze the words past the tightness in his throat. 

It felt odd saying his name- couldn’t help feeling strange mentioning his former lover under these circumstances. Marguerite knew about him, she had always known about the lovers and casual encounters Felix had had before and during their time together but he had never gone into any details and she had never pushed for any. 

When she had given him the green light to pursue (and be pursued by) whomever he wished it hadn’t been because she thought it would be kinky to allow her younger lover to be with others and perhaps bring some of them home to her; she wasn’t interested in a ménages à trois, wasn’t interested in hearing about the “sordid” specifics of each sexual conquest, and had no plans to tie him down either.

Marguerite had already experienced more traditional relationships. She had married for love and been widowed, had married for lust and money, and had been divorced twice. Thrice bitten by the institution of marriage- so, when Felix had come along, she’d gone for a less conventional arrangement. 

Early on, when it had started to look like they were taking a step up from casual encounters with each other, she’d made it clear that she might want something a little more serious but not necessarily permanent. Felix had looked relieved when she told him where she saw whatever it was between them going, and at the time she hadn’t fully understood why. Marguerite had then laid out some ground rules and explained that her only demands were to be treated with respect and that he stay clean (she didn’t want to catch anything and she was sure he wouldn’t want to either but she knew it wouldn’t hurt tell him so out loud) the rest she was willing to be flexible about. He had agreed to her terms. 

So, of course she’d heard about Hilly, had even met him once when Felix and Hilly were in one of the off-again phases of their on-again off-again relationship. 

“Felix, what’s happened to him?” She asked gently.

Felix exhaled slowly. 

“He- he died. AIDS.”

Marguerite felt her stomach drop. She should have known- she should have known that that’s what it was, not just that Hilly had died but that that had been the cause. 

She could remember clearly when the first rumblings had started only a few years ago.  The ”gay cancer” and the “gay plague”, they’d called it. She remembered how Felix would sometimes physically flinch when details first started to come out and when the homophobic vitriol had flared because people saw it as proof that what those men did with each other was a perversion, an abomination, and who cared of it killed them all off. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one chapter after this before reformatting, I swear ;P

Marguerite would admit to being worried. What if... what if... it was too dreadful to think. He was thin, she’d pointed that out less than an hour ago, but he hadn’t been  _ losing _ weight and he hadn’t been looking sickly (until this very moment), not a single sore in sight either, and she’d been fine too. 

She knew that didn’t put either of them in the clear- knew enough to be aware that a person could be asymptomatic for years before HIV progressed to AIDS. But it eased her mind that he was a stickler for using condoms, was circumcised, and didn’t like being the receptive partner with other men; it decreased the risk to both of them significantly. The fact that Felix hadn’t been with anyone else for some time helped too, despite the freedom he had in their relationship it had been 15 years or so since he’d been with any men, even longer since he’d been with any women. 

Felix’s lack of interest in seeing other people hadn’t been Marguerite’s doing nor had it been a conscious choice on his part, it had just happened with neither of them really noticing. They’d settled into a kind of contentment one saw in older married couples and Felix was about as happy as he was capable of given his traumas. 

He ignored the anxiety such contentment gave him, it was always there- the white noise of his life- but he shrugged off the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. There was no global conflict in sight, no one would come to tear his family apart and shove him in a cattle car, no hiding in the frozen winter woods, no epidemics, no gunfire. 

“You’re safe,” he’d remind himself. “You’re safe to live.”

Ada, Josh, Marguerite; just three people to care about- to worry about- he could handle that, he told himself, he could survive the strain of those relationships- they were worth the anxiety. If losing Joanie hadn’t been the last straw that killed him, being predeceased by those three people might not either, though he begged the god he wasn’t sure he believed in that nothing ever happen to Joshua. Felix might think he’d be able to survive that but he wasn’t sure Ada would. 

“Felix?”

He had drifted again. He looked up and handed Marguerite the letter- his answer to the question he heard in her voice.

“What do you want to do?” she asked when she finished the letter.

“I-,” he couldn’t make the words come out. 

His eyes prickled as he remembered the days when he had struggled with Yiddish in the partisan camp and then with English during his first year in New York, how he’d lashed out when he couldn’t say what he needed to say. But now he had Marguerite who, after so many years, could read him even though many found Felix enigmatic.

“I’ll cancel the reservation, we’ll have dinner here. It’s Elsa’s night off but I’m sure I can throw something together. It will be six soon and if you think you’re ready you can try giving Max a call, maybe you can go down this weekend, or next. I can even go with you if you’d like.”

Felix’s lips twitched into a small lopsided grin, his gratitude evident in his eyes. He reached for her free hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Where would I be without you?” he asked through their connected hands.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaah I know that I keep adding chapters but life keeps Happening™ and I've only been able to edit small portions of this fic at a time and I'd rather give you little bits as I go because it's easier to keep myself motivated this way. I swear the next chapter is for sure the last one.

Felix made the call an hour later, the voice on the other end of the line had sounded young and pleased to be hearing from Felix. They agreed to meet in the city the following Sunday and Felix ended the call the moment they’d decided on a date and time with an “I’ll see you then, goodbye”. He was certain that his abruptness could be misconstrued as rudeness, instead of a symptom of his inability to cope with his emotions, but he didn’t care.

The rest of the weekend was spent with Marguerite and Felix sleeping in, lazing about the house, and lounging by the pool; Felix remained true to form by staying tight-lipped and Marguerite comforted him by her mere presence. When Sunday night came and it was time for Felix to head back to Hartford, Marguerite took his hand before he opened his car door.

“Do you want me to go with you next week?” she asked.

“No, I think I’d rather go up on my own.”

“Alright.”

“But I’ll still come by- I’ll come Friday and leave from here Sunday morning, if that’s alright?”

“Of course.”

Felix took a deep breath and they were both quiet for a moment until he finally broke the silence.

“Thank you, Marguerite- for everything.”

Marguerite kissed his cheek gently and finally released his hand.

And with that he was gone, off to Hartford, off to a week of being the last remaining Strauss running Strauss Architecture, buttering up potential clients and keeping current clients happy. He was on autopilot the whole week, even went so far as to ignore one client’s advances, a handsome middle-aged man who Felix had long suspected of having certain proclivities, the type of man Felix would have likely broken his "accidental dry spell" with if not for the letter he’d received what now felt like an eternity ago.

The weekend was a relief and he was happy to be at Marguerite’s again, even if he felt tighter than a spring. He took her to out to dinner on Friday night to make up for the one they had cancelled the previous week and he felt closer to being himself as their banter over dinner returned to its usual rhythm.

On Saturday morning, he did something he hadn’t done in a while, he went to shul with his cousin for the Saturday morning service.

“What’s going on?” Ada asked when she saw Felix at her door.

“Nothing, I just felt like going to shul. Is that so hard to believe?”

Ada narrowed her eyes at him, making it obvious that she didn’t believe him.

Felix sighed.

“Maybe we’ll take about it some other time.”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to.”

Felix knew she was curious but he also knew she wouldn’t push.

“No, it’s alright, I don’t feel like talking about it now but maybe I won’t mind so much later.”

Ada dropped the matter and looped her arm through Felix's and they walked to his car- making Ada feel the way she had as a teenager when they'd walked home from school arm in arm, with Ada chatting about how her day had gone and Felix not saying a single word about his day.

"Remember, Felix, no flirting with Mrs. Turtletaub, you know how it annoys Harold," she said, with the same bubbly voice she'd used decades ago during those walks home.

"I won't so much as look at her, I swear."

"If you keep your end of the bargain I'll treat you to lunch, and maybe we'll drag Noah along if he isn't busy chasing squirrels."

The back and forth between Felix and his cousin alone made him feel like his spur of the moment decision to go to shul with her had been a good idea. It had been a comfort to be with Marguerite but it also felt good to be around someone who didn't _know_ and also knew Felix well enough to figure out that something was up but wouldn't push him to say or do anything.

Going through all the motions during the service also brought some relief; and it wasn't just the words, it was the choreography of prayer- the standing, the sitting, three steps back, three steps forward. It hadn't even occurred to him he'd find comfort in physical movement, it somehow managed to ease his anxiety about going to meet Max and visit Hilly's grave to allow his body to react automatically to the words he said and heard.

There was, however, one thing that Felix had been dreading but he needn't have worried. While the prayer service at the synagogue was coming to an end Felix was glad to discover that the congregation hadn’t taken up the practice of having everyone rise to say the Mourner's Kaddish whether they were in mourning or not. Despite feeling better than he had the previous week he wasn’t sure he could say the words- couldn’t admit that grief was something he was feeling by reciting it but, even so, he  _ needed _ to hear it.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.


End file.
